he name of a political reasoner.

(2) Mr. Cobbett speaks almost as well as he writes. The only time l ever
saw him he seemed to me a very pleasant man--easy of access, affable,
clear-headed, simple and mild in his manner, deliberate and unruffled in
his speech, though some of his expressions were not very qualified. His
figure is tall and portly. He has a good, sensible face--rather full,
with little grey eyes, a hard, square forehead, a ruddy complexion, with
hair grey or powdered; and had on a scarlet broadcloth waistcoat
with the flaps of the pockets hanging down, as was the custom for
gentlemen-farmers in the last century, or as we see it in the pictures
of Members of Parliament in the reign of George I. I certainly did not
think less favourably of him for seeing him.

ESSAY VII. ON PEOPLE WITH ONE IDEA

There are people who have but one idea: at least, if they have more,
they keep it a secret, for they never talk but of one subject.

There is Major Cartwright: he has but one idea or subject of discourse,
Parliamentary Reform. Now Parliamentary Reform is (as far as I know) a
very good subject to talk about; but why should it be the only one? To
hear the worthy and gallant Major resume his favourite topic, is like
law-business, or a person who has a suit in Chancery going on. Nothing
can be attended to, nothing can be talked of but that. Now it is getting
on, now again it is standing still; at one time the Master has promised
to pass judgment by a certain day, at another he has put it off again
and called for more papers, and both are equally reasons for speaking of
it. Like the piece of packthread in the barrister's hands, he turns
and twists it all ways, and cannot proceed a step without it. Some
schoolboys cannot read but in their own book; and the man of one idea
cannot converse out of his own subject. Conversation it is not; but
a sort of recital of the preamble of a bill, or a collection of grave
arguments for a man's being of opinion with himself. It would be well if
there was anything of character, of eccentricity in all this; but
that is not the case. It is a political homily personified, a walking
common-place we have to encounter and listen to. It is just as if a man
was to insist on your hearing him go through the fifth chapter of the
Book of Judges every time you meet, or like the story of the Cosmogony
in the _Vicar of Wakefield._ It is a tine played on a barrel-organ. It
is a common vehicle